Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Chapter 7 Masked Ball (4)
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***
The Professor was starting to find Jack's mask-like smile repulsive.
"Is this... an invitation? Or an order?"
"Hahaha, of course it's an invitation. No need to take it so sensitively."
"Sorry to interrupt while you're talking, but even someone as dense as me can tell this is weird. Do all the guys from the Dome operate like this? Deciding everything from start to finish and just notifying you?"
Ian kicked the box containing the military uniforms, toppling it over.
[Hepburn]
[Ian]
[Bex]
The names stood out clearly on the spilled military uniform jackets.
Not written in paint or ink, but embroidered name tags sewn in with thread. It meant they'd prepared the clothes from the start, assuming all three would accept the job.
"I refuse. Telling a discharged soldier to put on a uniform again? Jack, was it? You never served, did you? You have no idea how horrific that 'invitation' is."
People nearby, who had been preparing something, began turning their attention this way as Ian stood by the Professor's side, openly showing his strong rejection and confronting Jack.
"Oh dear... You're all taking this way too negatively. As I said earlier, it's just an invitation. If you absolutely can't do it... well, no choice then. However,"
Flutter.
Jack had already pulled a military uniform jacket from the box Bex had neatly packed.
"When Old Picture goes on a rampage, the fact that the people who caused it become the 'lead actors' carries a certain punitive meaning, as you know. One wrong move, and you could get killed by the thing outright. If you avoid that punishment... there'll be disadvantages in all sorts of ways. The Dome, having our goodwill rejected, could demand compensation from the BDSM caravan for repairs here and delays in operations. We could classify you as a hostile group uncooperative with the Dome and impose trade bans in nearby zones. And above all, expulsion from Zone 47 would come first. They say a mistake once is an accident, but twice is intentional. Who knows? Maybe Professor Park, tangled up with Old Picture twice now, has some ulterior motive and is deliberately carrying out terrorist acts in Zone 47 under the Dome's management? What if it turns out this 'Professor Park' harbors massive resentment against the Dome?"
A serpentine face with a fake smile. Beneath it, malice cloaked in shadow.
The bastard knew. About that incident five years ago between the Dome and me.
The moment judgment formed, a smile just as fake as Jack's appeared on the Professor's face.
Giving information to the enemy is foolish. Even if it's something trivial like mood or emotional state.
"Whew."
The Professor opened his mouth, crafting an expression farthest from his true feelings, beaming all over.
"You came prepared knowing everything, huh? Then why waste time with all that goodwill nonsense? You could've just said from the start, 'If you don't want to get kicked out, bow your head quietly.'"
"We've already shown plenty of goodwill up to now, haven't we? Truth be told, there was a lot of internal dissent about letting you live. Why keep alive someone who's fully turned hostile and risk creating trouble? According to records from five years ago, it was only because one high-ranking Enforcement Bureau executive desperately intervened that you were spared—as long as you didn't show hostility toward the Dome. That executive who defended you back then took a huge political hit and fell from power soon after. Hmm, camaraderie. Heartwarming tale."
Enforcement Bureau high-ranking executive.
Someone who would defend me when I fled with my mother from the Dome.
Camaraderie.
-----
'Your skills have improved a lot, rice bucket.'
'Three months after discharge, no, about four.'
'I had no choice. I didn't know she was your mother. I have... a daughter and wife here.'
-----
"Luwill Bartos."
My comrade from five years ago, who handed me documents revealing the horrific truth of what the Dome did to my mother, apologized, and let me escape.
"Foolish man. The 14th Special Forces were treated like idols by civilians back then. If he'd just leveraged that strong, upright image and stayed in the Enforcement Bureau, he could've easily become Bureau Chief by now."
"What... happened to him?"
Swish—
"Hepburn, don't listen."
"We'll do what they say, so if you don't want to eat dirt for the rest of your lives, shut your trap, snakehead."
"Hahaha! A three-man group so sharply divided. Your chain of command must be a total mess."
Thud!
Ignoring Ian's warning, Jack tossed the uniform jacket to the Professor.
"The Dome is like a living, breathing political beast. It doesn't let someone who's fallen climb back up, and it doesn't leave them be either."
"This fucker, after all this...!"
"Enough!"
The Professor's hand blocked Ian, who was rolling up his sleeves.
"Understood. We'll accept this job and cooperate fully with the Dome."
"Hey! Over some lame threat like that...!"
"No choice but to bend. The deal Luwill Bartos fought for was 'spare him if he shows no hostility.' Refuse the play and be uncooperative with the Dome's event, get listed as hostile and damaging to Zone 47, and the Enforcement Bureau gets legal grounds to kill you all over again. The Professor and his entire group included."
Smirk—
Like he'd said all he needed to, Jack smiled at the three before turning and walking away, glancing back just enough to emphasize his final words.
"So, I hope you'll continue showing 'cooperative' attitudes toward our Enforcement Bureau events from now on. Of course, the opposite would be welcome on our end too. Hahaha."
The Professor watched his retreating figure with cold eyes to the end. Body type, gait, dominant hand, which way his balance tilted—engraving every detail in his mind. It might come in handy when he someday drives a knife into that throat.
***
"Election time must be approaching."
After Jack left, the Professor murmured lowly to the two grumbling behind him.
"Election? You mean voting?"
"Yeah. Whatever their true intentions, the Dome claims to be guardians of old civilization—democracy and rule of law."
Even knowing my past, that was overly aggressive. No warning, suddenly decided 'Old Picture taming' mega-project. Rushing overall, especially clashing hard with the Surveillance Bureau.
"The Dome splits power among three departments: Administration, Surveillance, and Enforcement. Each nominates three candidates, and Dome residents vote for mayor. On the surface."
Swish—
"Hepburn, here."
"Hm? Oh, thanks. Was just thinking about it. When'd you grab it?"
"From when Jo kicked the box earlier. We matched up while you two were at it. Atmosphere's off, so we need at least one weapon they don't know about. Assassination starts outside their perception, right?"
The Professor took the greatsword Hepburn subtly handed him, slightly tore the inner thigh of the military pants, and hooked it in.
"Wasteland folk need speed in hands or head—at least one. Both is better. Hey! You there! Look over here! Missing a prop! Greatsword! You gonna take responsibility? Fuck up the details, get eaten by that monster, tank the Dome's project?"
After Jack left, people sneaking glances hurried over at Hepburn's words. One spotted the empty spot for the greatsword and soon brought a new one for the group.
"So, 'on the surface' means it's not really democratic in practice?"
"Naturally. The Dome's sneaky and dirty tricks are top-tier even in the wasteland. Selecting the head to control that snake pit? Lower-class Underdomers barely get to vote. Regular folks up top? 4-5% of votes. The rest, 95%, decided by Dome elites and influencers."
Less democracy, more Roman oligarchy. Dome's upper crust, like medieval noble great houses, idolizes leaders bringing them the most gain.
"Mentioning Surveillance first and hinting at my connection there was implying it'd look bad if we cooperated more with them. Rushing this bizarre 'Old Picture taming' project? Probably because Enforcement's lagging in achievements over the last four years. Officially, Surveillance boosted Zone 47 safety massively by chaining Old Picture in the center. They chained it, now we'll make it useful! Showy flex to claim superiority."
"Then, deliberately dredging up your past to provoke you? Looked like he wanted you to lunge."
"We still have a huge achievement-maker in our hands. Bex, that key didn't sell?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Put it at auction with fixed price, but the guys endlessly bidding suddenly ghosted once price set."
"Figures. It's the security key for the Dome's next city. Whichever of Admin, Surveillance, or Enforcement grabs it, their political graph skyrockets. They're probably checking each other fiercely."
Sly smile. Provoking trauma.
Bastard's every move screamed his intent.
[Please lunge.]
If I'd lost it and charged, Enforcement's strike force—now legally clear—would've slaughtered us, looted every last bit of BDSM. Security key for mighty political weapon Zone 45 bunker, shelter, generator, weapons—clean sweep, not a speck left. Politics rolls smooth only with money poured in.
"Not lunging works for them too. They rate our H.I.V skills high, like Surveillance. Surveillance tried cooing us in; Enforcement threatens to tool us. Either way, Enforcement wins."
The Professor, donning the jacket over baggy uniform pants, clicked his tongue at the jingle from the front pocket. Dog tags, even. Everything.
"So, long as we're in Zone 47... we gotta dance to their tune? Hey Professor, you serious!"
"Piss off the Dome anywhere, can't live properly."
"So we live like this? Collar on like dogs, bust ass on orders just to avoid death? Bullshit. Better the three of us fugitives forever...!"
Amusing guy. Emotions all over his face—disappointed seeing me bow to Dome. Yet says 'three' for fugitives. Foolish or loyal?
"You think I'm nuts? If it was set in stone, I'd have ripped off that Jack's head first and stormed the Dome, no second thoughts. Pretending to bow 'cause there's a way."
"Pretending?"
"Yeah, idiot."
Click clack.
Clang! Jingle!
Fully uniformed, the Professor eyed people striving to make the area more battlefield-like.
"This fails for sure. Enforcement's turning this project into their own grave."
Train Old Picture? Laughable. Enforcement packs most strike teams and combat vets, so short on researchers compared to others. Hence this blunder as 'operation.'
Surveillance mobilized all Admin researchers, cracked its behavior principles, built airtight plan, trapped it in model garden—127 official dead. Even if it moves by rules like Psycho Gangs, it's a mutant variant. Can't just act normal like against Psycho Gangs.
Tame and control that? Rushed pre-election. Absurd, laughable. Shows Enforcement's desperate straits.
"That bastard said it. Dome doesn't let fallers climb back easy, doesn't leave 'em be."
Smug, victor's face relaying Luwill's death.
"Hate the Dome, but if crushing those fallen Enforcement pals? I'd lend a hand. Pay to join if excluded."
Wanna see it. Their faces swapped, crashed to bottom, shattered. Spit on crumpled mugs, chant Mom's name, dance jig, hack corpses.
"Fall just to my mud level, you bastards. I'll treat you right."
[Hehehe]
The Professor swallowed old rage surfacing after ages, recalling Luwill's docs sharp as ever years later.
Three Admin researchers. Five Surveillance intel paid off. And...
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Enforcement: Ollinda Barbatoss
Enforcement: Adler Kiel
Enforcement.
Enforcement
Enforcement
Enforcement
Enforcement
,
,
,
,
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Enforcement, 73.
"Revenge of the gentleman takes ten years too soon, but I'm no gentleman... Five years is plenty endured."
Screee—!
Noon sharp, mind-piercing screech ripping central zone like scraping glass.
"Let's go, friends. Don't wanna be late for Enforcement send-off party."
Old Picture emerges from hideout at noon, prowls model garden. Time till stage ready, so start briefing on taming it.
'Enforcement totally wrong on Type 3 mutants. Means no proper intel share with Surveillance that led last Old Picture project. Dome internal politics worse than thought.'
This project's doomed. Zone 47 loses Old Picture, periodic Psycho Gang and mutant remover sheriff. Someone eats the blame.
'Follow orders, but no suicide or letting back two die. Gotta hustle desperate.'
Perfect execution, no nitpicks allowed. One slip, Enforcement pins failure on it, blames our group.
All blame back to Enforcement incompetence.
"So, I'll give my best. Go ahead, use me freely! They call me the Man of the Impossible— who knows? Might work a miracle!"
Screeeee—
As if echoing his vow, Old Picture's psychic wave echoed far off.
***
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